


Five Times Chandlo Was Snorpy's Sunny Sky and One Time Snorpy Was A Safe Harbor

by zombified_queer



Category: Bugsnax (Video Game)
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:29:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29831187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombified_queer/pseuds/zombified_queer
Summary: They've been together since the dawn of time, paw in paw. Like the sky and the sea blurring together into blue and blue and blue.
Relationships: Snorpy Fizzlebean/Chandlo Funkbun
Comments: 4
Kudos: 53





	Five Times Chandlo Was Snorpy's Sunny Sky and One Time Snorpy Was A Safe Harbor

"Can you remember a time we were ever not together?" Snorpy asks, not looking up from his blueprints.

Chandlo hums in thought, putting his weights down. "Nope!"

Snorpy nods. Maybe it's at his plans and prototypes. But mostly it's in response to Chandlo.

"You look like you're thinking heavy thoughts, Snorpy. Lay it on me, man.”

"Well, I was just wondering how long we've been...friends." Snorpy swallows his yearning and envy. “It seems...a long time.”

Chandlo shrugs. "Forever, I guess?"

"Since the dawn of time."

"Yeah!" Chandlo grins. "And I don't think I'd have it any other way."

* * *

The cabin's finished just as twilight sets over Sugarpine Woods. Everything's nice and neat, the logs smooth but sealed to keep it warm inside. Snorpy stokes a fire while Chandlo unpacks their sleeping bags.

"Snorpy, we should get a place like this back home," Chandlo suggests. "Cozy cabin in the woods."

"It would be an improvement for...air quality," Snorpy agrees, kneeling by the fire and watching Chandlo set up their sleeping bags. "Plenty of room for hiking."

"Never skip leg day, dawg," Chandlo adds. "We could go hiking together. Take pictures and stuff."

"I'd like that, I think, Chandlo"

* * *

At noon, same as always, Chandlo takes Snorpy's paw and leads him outside. It's always warm around noon, comfortably so. And sunny. So sunny and bright.

Like Chandlo's smile. He grins at everything. Snorpy adores it.

"Do you think Hunnabees like flowers?" Chandlo asks.

"I'm no gastro-entomologist, but since they are made of honey, I don't see why they wouldn't."

"Rad."

As they walk, whenever Chandlo finds a flower, he'll pick it, tucking it into the pockets of Snorpy's apron.

"What are you doing?"

"Well, you're sweet like a Hunnabee, dawg."

Snorpy laughs. He can't help it. "Thank you, Chandlo."

* * *

The sunsets are often chilly. The snow on the ground isn't really snow in the traditional sense. It's more like some sort of frozen yogurt or frostbitten icing.

Snorpy blinks as Chandlo drapes something around his shoulders. He expected a blanket, but this has sleeves. "Your jacket?"

"Just that old letterman one from high school."

"You still wear it?"

"Nah. 'sides you were shivering really badly, Snorpy." Chandlo grins. "Eggabell would say you're hypothermic."

"Cold," Snorpy corrects, "not hypothermic."

"Are you warm enough? We can go inside. Get the fire going."

“That sounds wonderful,” Snorpy agrees. 

“Race you back, Snorpy!”

* * *

Sugarpine Woods has a full view of an aurora borealis. It's an alarmingly localized phenomenon, a disruption of poles and magnetics in ways Chandlo wouldn't even begin to understand. Snorpy himself barely understands it all.

"We never got this back home, right?" Chandlo says, sitting close to Snorpy. "It's radical."

"It's..." Snorpy picks his words carefully. "a fascinating phenomenon."

"Wish I'd grabbed my Snakscope. I would take a picture of this," Chandlo sighs. "I'll have to settle for the real deal."

Snorpy feels his face heat up. Chandlo can’t mean Snorpy. But Chandlo grins at Snorpy like he's the borealis.

* * *

When Chandlo stumbles into the mill with a wide grin and a scrape over his nose, Snorpy freezes up. But then Snorpy gets the first aid kit and ushers Chandlo upstairs, up to bed, so Snorpy can treat what he can properly.

Chandlo grins while Snorpy wraps the bandages around Chandlo’s sprained wrist. It’s nothing lethal, no concussion. Just scrapes and bruises. It could have been so much worse. That scares Snorpy more than anything.

"Oh don't give me that look," Snorpy scolds. "You could've been hurt much worse than this! All to show off."

Snorpy finishes wrapping Chandlo's wounds. Thankfully it was only a few scrapes. A minor sprain. No doubt Chandlo will be up and active as ever soon enough. Too soon, maybe.

"But I know I gotta be strong for us, Snorpy," Chandlo admits. "I don't worry a lot because you're my safe harbor, y'know?"

"Well, since I'm you safe harbor, you should rest up." Snorpy's voice softens. As much as he wants to be upset, he can never be mad at Chandlo, not really. Worried and scared for him, but not mad. "I should go have a word with that journalist for talking you into this."

"Nah, Snorpy, I wanted to do this." Chandlo rubs the back of his neck. "I never thought about asking you. Sometimes you wanna lift your own stuff."

"You don't have to kill yourself to do it," Snorpy points out, taking Chandlo's paws in his own. "I'll help whenever you need it, Chandlo. We're a team."

"The best team." Chandlo yawns. “Like the sea and the sky. They reflect, right?”

Snorpy sighs. “Yes, one is a reflection of the other.”

“Rad.” Chandlo starts to doze off. "You're my sea, Snorpy."

Snorpy tucks Chandlo in. It's a rather poetic sentiment, being someone's sea. Full of mystery. Food. Danger. Treasure, maybe, if Triffany's tall tales of pirates wrecked at sea is anything to go off of.

Snorpy hates the ambiguity. But he's not going to wake Chandlo to ask. Chandlo needs rest if he's going to heal up.

So Snorpy heads back downstairs. Aside from the water wheel creaking along, it's quiet. Snorpy does his best to keep it that way, sticking to planning new prototypes at his drafting table. The scratch of a pencil and rustle of paper wouldn't be too loud.

While Snorpy works, it begins to rain.

Just a light pattering against the windows. Snorpy shuts the door to Chandlo's basketball court, just to keep the mill warmer and drier. He stokes the fire, not for any smithing, but to keep the draft at bay.

"Snorpy?"

Snorpy looks up. Chandlo's perched on the stairs.

"Go back to bed, Chandlo. You need to rest."

"So do you."

Snorpy nods in agreement. "I suppose it is late."

With two of them tucked into one cot, Snorpy realizes maybe he's not the sea. Maybe they're each other's safe harbors. It's silly, a poem a teenager would write. But it’s how they work together.


End file.
